Crimson
by Cheesebad
Summary: A classic tale of a blood filled evening. One-shot


Blood spattered across his face as he withdrew his sai from the throat of the Purple Dragon Thug. The man tried to scream. He screamed blood. A smile tugged at the edges of Raphael's lips as he licked the weapon clean. He stopped fighting and let the smirk fester into a widening grin. He let the tang of copper and iron swirl in his mouth before spitting it out onto the cold pavement.

He heard the battle cry of his next opponent and lifted his sais in defense at the last second. The metal clang reverberated off the alley walls, echoing out onto the streets of city. In that moment, all of New York stool still.

Raphael slaughtered the silence with an angry yell ,gritting his teeth and grunting at the weight of the opponent bearing down upon him. The pipe scraped shrilly against his sais as each opponent attempted to gain the upper hand. The thug was a fair bit larger and more muscular than Raphael, yet the turtle seemed only all too eager to fight.

Bending his knees, he thrust his arms skyward, temporarily leaving himself vulnerable, but only for moment. That moment was all Raphael needed to deliver a satisfying kick to his opponent's ribs. His ears welcomed the bone breaking crunch that followed as his foot connected with his opponent's torso. The gang member stumbled backwards, his hand clutching his now broken ribs. In his right hand he still brandished his iron pipe.

"Is that the best the Purple Dragon has to offer?" Raphael jeered, "Even the foot at least give me a workout!"

The man snarled at him, letting go of his ribs he raised his steel pipe with both hands. He charged Raphael once again, but this time more cautiously, carefully placing the pipe between his body and his opponent. The man swung the pipe low hoping to catch Raphael on the back of the knees. Raphael anticipated his move, sidestepping the attack; he stabbed his sai into the thugs unprotected shoulder. As he pulled out the blade, the yoku got caught in the leather of the man's jacket and his weapon was ripped free from his grasp. The man made a hasty retreat to the back of the alley.

The sai clanged to the ground halfway between the two of them. Raphael eyed it nervously, twirling the remaining sai around his fingers. His other hand twitched, mirroring the movements. He never like fighting with only one sai, it made him feel vulnerable.

The man eyes flicked from the turtle to the weapon abandoned on the ground, licking his lips as his eyes darted between the two. He rolled his injured shoulder experimentally and winced at the pain. Blood was starting to soak the back of his jacket., he had to end this before the blood loss became a problem.

The two charged at the weapon in unison, Raphael leaping across the distance and sliding on his shell, his fingers closing around the handle of the sai as the man's hand grabbed the at the empty space where the weapon had lain just seconds before. The thug stumbled upright and turned, swinging his pipe down at the turtle's exposed plastron. Raphael transferred his weight from his shell to his hands and he performed a back handspring. The pipe clipped his right ankle, shaking up his landing but leaving no clear sign of serious injury.

Raphael spun low on his heels, snaking out his right foot out and kicking the man in his already injured ribs. The man gasp with pain, and stumbled backward into the alley wall. The man stood against the wall, holding his ribs and trying to find a moment to blink away the black spots swarming his vision.

Raphael took that moment and slashed him across the throat. Blood erupted from the man's neck as the weapon cut cleanly through his jugular. Raphael basked in the blood like a reptile basking in the warm glow of the sun. The pipe clanged to the ground. It's wielder swayed gently, staring blankly ahead as if he were about to ask something, then followed suit.

Pathetic- even Mikey would have been able to take him down, although he wouldn't caused even half the carnage.

Raphael gazed around the alley with fading interest. The blood that covered the brick walls and pavement was nowhere near as exhilarating to him, now that the battles where he had spilled it were over.

I've always thought New York's alley ways could use a little more colour.

Another gang member rounded the corner, clearly oblivious to the events that had been taking place. His eyes went wide at seeing his fallen comrades.

"No…" was the only sound the gang member seemed capable of making.

"Care to try your hand kid?" Raphael gleamed ''Who knows? You might fare better than your friends did," He gestured to the bodies,with a sweep of his arms. "You couldn't do worse"

Raphael could feel the blood trickling down his body, his gear, his sais, even his mask.

There was a reason Splinter chose red for me, he thought mercilessly, never having to wash the blood out, comes in handy.

The gang member stood in the alleyway too shocked to move. His chest heaving with every breath, unable to tear his graze from the body that lay at the turtle's feet.

"You killed him," he stammered, his eyes brimming with tears,"You killed my brother."

"Well look at it this way: more Christmas presents for you," Raphael smirked, kicking the lifeless body out his way as he approached the kid.

Raphael stopped and studied the shocked and quivering child, a boy no older than sixteen. His copper coloured hair was plastered to his sweaty brow. A worn leather jacket hung loosely from his small frame. The dragon tattoo coiled around his wrist was still red and glistening from the application of ointment. As Raphael looked over the boy, the kid finally found his voice.

"You killed my brother" he repeated, "I'll kill you, you freak!" He charged Raphael pulling out the blade from a small switchblade.

"Try," Raphael taunted, taking his stance.

The boy changed him, swinging the knife in an arc aiming for Raphael's unprotected face. Ducking the knife with a smirk, he grabbed the boy's outstretched wrist. A sharp twist forced the boy to let go of his weapon. Disarmed, he could do nothing to stop the slash of a sai across the abdomen. Raphael cut the boy cleanly, but not as deeply as he thought. The boy staggered backward, clutching at his stomach.

Raphael looked at his weapon quizzically.

I'll have to sharpen it when I get back to the lair. He turned his attention back to the kid.

"No, please don't" the boy made a move as if to grab him by the shoulder. Raphael leaned back and kicked him squarely in the chest. The boy went sprawling across the ground, knocking over a few empty trash cans as he slid. The boy rolled to his back and tried to sit up, his arm wrapped about his waist.

"Stop Raphael!" He raised an arm as if believing it could protect him. "Stop!"

Raphael planted his foot of the boy's chest forcing him back to the ground. The boy wrapped his hands around Raphael's foot to wrench it off. He quickly realized his efforts were in vain, as the red-clad turtle simply leaned forward and transferred more of his weight onto the boy's chest. The kid looked up at him, desperation filled his eyes.

The boy threw his head back and yelled "You have to stop! HELP ME!"

Raphael had no idea whom the boy was calling for, but they certainly weren't going to make it in time. He pressed his sai to the boys still beating heart.

"Your brother would have been ashamed to call you family."

He watched a terrified pair of eyes widen, filled with fear and guilt. The press of his sai made the twisted expression permanent upon the boy's face. He withdrew his weapon from the its chest and watched blood pool around the body.

He inhaled deeply, the smell of the fresh spilled viscera mixing with putrid smells of the alley.

Raphael bolted upright from his bed, drenched in sweat, clutching his sais. His eyes darting about the room, as he panted.

"Just a dream. Just a dream."

He tried to steady his labored breathing. He held his head in hands as he breathed deeply. "Just a nightmare," he tried comforted himself.

His mouth was dry and chalky, he placed his sais back upon the bedside table. He threw back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His feet landed in a sticky warm puddle.

"No," he muttered, turning on the light. Looking to the floor he met his brother's unwavering gaze. A mixture of fear and confusion contorted his face. The wound on his brother's heart was still oozing blood.

"No…"


End file.
